The Reason I Stayed
by Rorylie
Summary: Jaimie tries to convince Dean to Change his mind. Written for lj's smallfandom fest, prompt blaze of glory.


"What are you doing here?" Dean demanded when Jaimie walked into the office.

"I forgot something," she answered, staring at him, and then at Carter.

Dean turned away from her, sharing a look with Carter and them slamming out the door.

"What's going on?" Jaimie asked, frozen in place on her way to her desk.

Carter shrugged.

"Seriously," she said. "Carter, what the hell is going on?"

Carter looked away from her. "He's going after Alvarez."

She frowned in confusion. "What changed? I thought we couldn't get a good angle on the guy."

Carter shook his head. "Nothing changed," he said, giving Jaimie a meaningful look. "This is not some sanctioned activity."

Her eyes widened. "He'll get himself killed."

Carter nodded. "I think that's what he wants."

She felt everything tighten inside of her, hands balling into fists at her side, eyes narrowing as she glared at him.

"And you're just going to let him go?" she demanded.

"He wasn't exactly asking for permission."

She shook her head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What do you want me to do, Jaimie?" he shot back. "You think I didn't try to talk him out of this?"

"You let him walk out of here knowing he's going on a damn suicide mission," she snapped, turning to the door.

She was shaking as she slammed the door behind her, anger and fear and adrenaline pumping through her body.

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She found Dean arming himself for war at his place, sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by weapons.

"Jesus," she muttered under her breath.

He glanced up at her and then back down at the gun in his hand. "Carter told you."

She nodded. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Not having this conversation," he answered. "If you're gonna be here, make yourself useful," he said, reaching for another gun and holding it towards her.

"You want me to help you get yourself killed?" she said, staring at him.

"Melodrama doesn't suit you, sweetheart."

"I'm not being melodramatic," she hissed. "I actually think I'm being pretty damn realistic. You have to know that. You know what you're walking into. You know you're not coming back."

"Didn't think you'd care."

"That's such bullshit. Don't put this on me. You want to go off and get yourself killed and make it my fault?"

He shrugged. "Just making a comment."

She pushed her hair out of her face, little strands that were too short, always falling out of her ponytail and into her eyes and suddenly it felt too damn familiar and normal and it actually made her ache, some actual physical ache at the thought of losing him. She sank to the floor in front of him.

"Don't do this," she said softly.

"I have to."

She shook her head. "You're the one who's always lecturing me, telling me there's another way."

"Not this time." He shrugged. "I always wanted to go out fighting, sweetheart, to go down in a blaze of glory. Better than fading away."

"Pick a fight you at least have a chance of winning, then. Pick a fight that matters, pick something that might actually accomplish something. You're gonna go in there and get yourself killed for nothing."

"You'll be able to take him down," he said flatly.

"Maybe," she protested. "That is a hell of a chance to take."

"It's worth it, getting him off the streets."

She reached for him, shaking off his hands when he tried to push her away and cupping his face.

"I need you," she said, pleading, begging, "I can't lose you. The only time I ever really feel like myself is when I'm with you. I can't lose that. I've never been able to figure out what to do about this, about us, and if I lose you, I'll never get it right." She paused, taking a deep breath. "What if you're my only chance at redemption?"

"Then you're screwed, sweetheart."

"I can find another way, Dean, let me help you, and I promise we'll find another way."

She took the gun from his hands and placed it on the floor, climbing into his lap and slowly pushing him onto his back.

"Let me help you," she repeated. "Because I can't lose you. I can't," it was like a chant as she started stripping both of their clothes. "I can't, I can't, I can't lose you. You can't leave me."

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Jaimie woke up in Dean's empty bed, and knew instantly that he was gone. He wasn't off in the kitchen making her eggs, he wasn't taking a shower. He was gone.

She almost never slept, but this one time, the most important time, the only damn time that mattered in her life she slept like a baby, slept so well she didn't notice him leaving.

She felt tears burning her eyes as she dressed. She drove to the office because she didn't know where else to go. She couldn't stay there and couldn't stand the idea of going home.

Carter was standing in the kitchen and she wanted to reach across the counter and knock the stupid fruit cup out of his hands.

"He's gone, isn't he?" she asked softly.

Carter shook his head. "He's upstairs. Nice job."

She stared at him. "What, you want credit for this? You used me? Told me what was going on so I'd go running over there? And then what?"

"I knew that you would do what you could, do what it took."

"What happens when using us all like chess pieces doesn't work out the way you think it will?" she demanded.

"There was nothing else I could do to get through to him," Carter shrugged. "You and I wanted the same thing, I thought maybe you could be more persuasive."

"I'm just a walking set of tits to you," she snapped, spinning on her heels and marching to the stairwell.

Dean turned around when the door slammed behind her, gave her a stupid grin.

"Didn't know if you were ready to deal with a morning after," he said. "Hell, I know I wasn't."

She bit on her lip. "Why'd you change your mind?"

"You made a pretty compelling argument." He paused. "I don't know if I can give you redemption, sweetheart. I'm not even sure I'll ever find it for myself. This job is going to kill me someday, and I pretty much made my peace with it. I'd rather go down in a blaze of glory than fade away anyway."

Jaimie wrapped her arms around her chest. "You ever think you might not always feel that way?"

He shrugged. "It's been a long damn time since I've thought about growing old, sweetheart."

"Maybe you should rethink that," she said, stubbing at the ground with her toe.

"You gonna give me a reason to?" he asked, tilting his head and studying her.

"What?" she asked. "Like a kid or something?"

"Hell no," he answered with a laugh. "I was thinking like, access to your tits."

She smiled, even as she shoved him roughly into the wall. "You ever fucking scare me like that again, I'll stop sucking your cock."

He nodded. "Pretty effective motivation there, sweetheart."

"Yeah, well, clearly somebody has to keep you in line."

He grinned at her. "You can keep me in line anytime you want."


End file.
